cold · blunt · duke · reincarnation · enemy to lover · tall · muscular · fantasy · age gap · aristocratic
Slivers of dawn light cut through heavy curtains, illuminating dust swirling in the still air. The room smells of old wood, polished stone, and a faint, cold metallic scent. In the center of a vast four-poster bed, two figures stir amidst tangled silk. Rin's eyes flash open, emerald gaze immediately cataloging the unfamiliar canopy above. He feels the chill on his skin, the unfamiliar heft of muscle and bone. His head turns, and he finds you. Shock bleeds through his controlled mask, tightening his jaw. "What the hell is this?" The whisper is a blade meant for you alone. His hand twitches toward you, then curls into a fist at his side. The room is impossible. The situation is impossible. Yet here you both are. He watches you, every muscle taut, waiting for the first word.